


Island

by Hipsterian



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Airports, Jinwoo only wants to watch his dramas, M/M, Minho is kind of annoying, Minho wants to brag, Missing airplanes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-05 03:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterian/pseuds/Hipsterian
Summary: His flight has been cancelled and Jinwoo only wants to kill time while watching some dramas.On the other hand, Minho wants this pretty boy's attention.





	1. Chapter 1

It was already bad that his flight had been cancelled due to the bad weather.

Outside, thunders are parting the sky with bolts of light and the rain falls like a torrent, flooding the landings, hampering aircraft to take off. The forecast calls it a tropical storm; a sudden one that is delaying all his plans. 

Bad weather in Hawaii; it feels like a bad pun. But it’s true. He has been sitting there, on the waiting room in front of the boarding gate for over half an hour, waiting for a solution, for a way back to Korea. And yet, his luck is not on his side when he has to explain to the young man sitting next to him that he, too, has lost his flight. 

He really has lost it, missed it totally if only it wasn’t postponed. He arrived carrying three heavy suitcases and an uncountable amount of bags filled up to the top and had sat next to Jinwoo and waited to board despite the announcements, despite that it was clear that no flights were going to fly tonight. He had his ticket on his lap and was glancing at it from time to time. Jinwoo took pity on him, he was probably the only other Korean waiting there, the only one who he would understand. But the boy just sighed, relieved.

“So I didn’t miss it,” he said with a smirk. Jinwoo wanted to object, but let it go - he didn’t want to engage in any type of argument. Instead, he turned to watch the storm raging outside, listening to the droplets clash against the window, the wind brawling and the darkness painting the sky above his eyes. The boy relaxed and fished out his phone from one of the multiples bags hanging around his waist, reclined on the bench as if losing the plane wasn't a big deal - it was a nightmare for Jinwoo who had to reschedule everything, from his work to the cats' caretaker and to call everybody to let them know that he was alright, stuck in Hawaii airport.

Today it’s not his day, he thinks while tossing on the plastic bench - uncomfortable. He scrolls down his phone and pretends to ignore the rest of the world - the rest of the world is crashing outside, uprooting palm trees and blackening the sunlight.

The man next to him is taking a call, but by the way he turns around Jinwoo guesses he is video calling or recording something - his long, veiny arms are moving everywhere and Jinwoo squishes himself to the corner just to prevent being hit on the face and, just in case, he ducks into the chair, head facing the crystal wall - outside it’s pouring rain, palm leaves swirling violently on the wind. Not a single plane has taken off in hours - not a single one will do so today; he doesn’t understand why the company hasn’t just sent them home instead of forcing them to stay (Jinwoo would have to stay the night here nevertheless since he has no money left to pay for a hotel room; he has used all his budget buying souvenirs from the local shops for his family and newborn nephew). 

Jinwoo checks the time; one hour and he is still waiting. At least he has his phone with him and the signal is good in here so, perhaps, he should take this moment to catch up with the dramas he has been so much neglected due to work. He plugs in his charger and gets comfortable on this rather cramped, plastic seat. He takes all the space he can, spreading his legs, his back on the wall and tries to leisure, momentary forgetting where he is and what's going on.

There are a lot of dramas to watch, he thinks with his finger tapping on the screen; but there is one in particular that he has been saving. He smiles at the phone while selecting the one with IU in it; he has been willing to see it but never found the time to just sit, relax and enjoy - not that this is the perfect environment to watch dramas but he hasn’t anything else to do to kill time. 

He is about to hit play when he feels it: a hand on his shoulder tugging him a little. On his feet lays chaos. All his seat partner's bags are wide open, the contents spreading on the flagstone floor - there are laptops and tablets and too many cameras to count tangled with piles of crumpled clothes and other things Jinwoo doesn’t need to know. It’s as if a bomb has just exploded on his luggage and he is seeing the aftermath of its terror. The man has one hand fidgeting with a cord that doesn't match his phone and the other one on Jinwoo’s shoulder. 

“Can I borrow your charger?” his voice is deep and low; scanty dark hair - too damaged to be saved now, and soft, brown eyes - he feels warm in a way he can't explain. He is cute. Rudely cute. Illegal kind of cute - the type that melts hearts and put a giggle on the lips. Jinwoo smiles despite the question - he is mentally cursing at him because he is not going to lend him his electric twine, not when he needs it to fill up his own phone to watch IU’s drama. He is about to tell him to fuck off but he is plain adorable, and Jinwoo can’t be crude - and how to say no to this boy? He is a sucker for cuteness and this person has too much, with his damaged hair and his warm eyes and soft grins. 

Jinwoo disconnects his phone and hands the charger to him who smiles at him as if the sun lived between his teeth. 

“Thanks,” he says, simply, taking it with a simper and shimmering eyes. “I thought I had it, but I must have forgotten,” he adds, pointing at the mess surrounding him. Jinwoo smiles back. It is just such a coincidence that he has brought with him his spare battery, fully charged, that will last one day. He takes it from his backpack and plugs his phone in - Jinwoo would never leave the house without getting through everything he daily needs, he always packs his stuff carefully. The man must have noticed, “you seem so organized!” it’s a compliment but coming from him, it sounds a bit like an insult but Jinwoo hasn’t the energy to take it at all - he only wants to go back to watch his drama.

The boy next seat returns to his video-call - or whatever - and Jinwoo feels save to push the play button. 

He is only through half the first episode but he senses eyes on him. It’s not only that someone is looking at him but the sensation of being observed fully, He is distraught but pretends to be ok - he doesn’t want to lose track of the plot, it’s getting quite intense. But the glares and stares are also becoming more vehement and he is disquieted - he feels exposed, vulnerable to these eyes gazing fixedly on him. It makes him uneasy, agitated.

Jinwoo turns around just to come across with the boy’s glance transfixed on his hands - the boy blinks, ashamed for a second, caught red-handed. He gives him a smirk, though, shameless, his eyes now dancing from Jinwoo’s phone to his face as if burning his shape behind his eyelids. He has been contemplating Jinwoo for a while; his hands, his face, the myriad od freckles painting his neck, his watercolour eyes, brown like a forest, splashed with all the stars of the universe. He has been gulping at the view of his spread, opened legs, he has been relishing on his flat stomach barely revealed. He has been wolfing him with his dark pupils just to end watching Jinwoo's phone screen with a beatifical grin.

“Isn’t it IU’s drama?” he asks, genuinely curious as to if he hasn't been prying over Jinwoo. Jinwoo brightens up - he is always delighted to find other IU’s fans. If he has to be interrupted, it better be by talking about Lee Jieun. If he has to be ogled by someone, this person better be an "Uaena" too. 

“Yes, it’s her latest work”, Jinwoo explains, excitedly. The boy smiles at him, gleaming. 

“Can I watch it with you?” Jinwoo nods; he doesn’t want to be churlish. “Oh! By the way, my name is Minho,” the boy says, ready to shake hands. Jinwoo follows suit.

“Jinwoo”.

“Such a pretty name, it matches you!” he points with a side smirk. He is smug but a cutie and Jinwoo let it slip without replying. This Minho guy seems a prat, but a nice one and the only Korean to hang around on this long wait he has ahead of him. And, maybe, he is a fan of what he loves, too so, why to be unpolite when he can be friendly with him instead? - even though this particular person has been staring at him, creeping Jinwoo out a bit but might it be his wild, tired imagination.

When Jinwoo resumes his business Minho draws up closer to him, violating all the laws about personal, private space. He is not only looking over his shoulder, but he is also literally on top of his junction, chin virtually hanging on his skin. But, at least, he is silent - it lasts a heartbeat.

“It’s Jihoon!” Minho exclaims, pointing at the figure standing at the edge of the screen. Might be a fan of him despite that Pyo Jihoon isn’t that well known as an actor. Jinwoo knows that because he is a big drama fan - and Jihoon has only had a few secondary roles. He must be a hardcore fan of dramas if he recognises him in just a frame, in a low-quality video. Jinwoo fancies him already - it's easy to forget how close he is to him, how his lips are pouting an inch away.

“Do you like dramas, too?” he wonders, expectantly. Maybe they can chat about their favourites ones - Jinwoo is in need to find new dramas to watch.

“Me? No. But Jihoon is my friend so I’ve to watch some to keep up with the friendship” he explains, smirking. Jinwoo is not Jihoon’s fan - this is the first time seeing him acting - but he is aware of him being an idol and Jinwoo doesn't know idols if they aren’t IU or GDragon. He is sure that Minho is bragging, showing off his closeness with someone famous, the little fucker - though he is no little, he is tall and board and looks dangerous overall. But when he smiles, and it seems like he is always smiling, he beams and he has sparkling eyes and half of Jinwoo's heart because he is adorable even when he is breathing inches away from his air and his hands landed on his leg and he is taking too many liberties with someone he has just met. 

Jinwoo is about to slap his creeping hands when he chuckles and it sounds so nice, so good, he forgets half motion and Minho’s hands get away with it, touching the play button - and with IU in action, Jinwoo forgets everything. 

It is obvious that Minho isn’t into watching dramas quietly; he points out stuff and never shuts up about Jihoon. By the end of the second episode, Jinwoo has heard enough about them both to write a book and the clock ticks ten and it adds four hours since his flight was supposed to leave. Not that it matters now; he is stuck in the airport next to a bluster who is ruining the only good thing he has to occupy himself. What it appears that Minho is into is annoying Jinwoo - his head has nestled in the crook of his neck, his fingers have been brushing his, his lips have nearly touched his skin and, on top of all, he has kept interrupting IU’s speech (Jinwoo has never replayed one scene so many times before; Minho is distracting, Minho is a bother but he can’t find the courage to talk him off in order to not look like a whiner).

Jinwoo listens to anything that Minho says and, somehow, he finds himself moiety amused and moiety enchanted. Mayhaps it is the music of his voice that is so soothing, maybe it’s because he makes him laugh and he hasn’t in a while - a long while now. It doesn’t matter; Jinwoo halts the drama again and this time he isn’t half-mad but, instead, thrilled to hear what Minho has to explain. Most of what Minho says turns out to be praise towards Jinwoo - and Jinwoo blushes adorably and Minho wants for nothing but to pain his cheeks with hues of rosy. By now Jinwoo is fully immersed in Minho's life; he is an idol just like Jihoon, his best friend since high school. They were about to debut together but fate wasn’t taking it so Minho was sent off only to debut with a different group a few years later. And Jinwoo is still unfamiliar with idols and entertainment agencies but he has learned YG’s staff and Minho’s team and pets names. By heart. 

Jinwoo is still non-committed to all this idol stuff but gives up on watching dramas by the end of the second episode because he can do it peacefully back at home - where he can’t listen to Minho complaining, making a fuss out of his friend’s acting or laughing his ass off at any gushy, sappy or mushy line. 

It’s twelve when the flight company decides to send them home and Jinwoo feels like Cinderella after the ball, all the excitement wears off. He has no place to go so he curls on the bench, getting ready for bed. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow the storm will be over and he will be on his way back. 

Minho is standing next to him. For a moment Jinwoo thinks he is finally giving back his charger, but instead he is waiting for him. 

“Hyung, we have to go,” he says, worried.

“I have nowhere to go,” Jinwoo says, yawning. Without the weight of the waiting, he feels his bones melting with tire and as uncomfortable as this seat is, he knows he’ll fall flat asleep as soon as the lights go off. 

“Let’s find a hotel together!” he sounds so cheerful as if missing a flight meant nothing. For Jinwoo it means taking an extra day off work, leaving his cats on the kennel one more day, troubles, expenses he can’t afford. And, yet, he lets Minho drags him out of the airport and buckled him inside a taxi, riding to the nearest spot. He wants this day to end, he wants to close his eyes and, maybe, dream about Minho.

It’s not until they arrive at the fourth hotel that they have finally luck. It’s a 5* Hotel and Jinwoo is already thinking of ways to keep his savings afloat - there is no way, he is going to waste them in just one night. 

It comes clear when Jinwoo looks at the invoice. But this is the last room vacant and Minho is adamant that they should take it - despite the cost, despite that it's a queen-size bed and they aren't that close, not remotely close to share one mattress. 

“It might be the last room in the whole island,” he states, seriously, wallet ready to pay. He might be right but Jinwoo can’t bankroll it - it is too much of a luxury, he’d better sleep out on the heavy rain. He sighs.

“Minho, I can’t afford it,” he murmurs much to Minho’s delight. He grins and beams and pats Jinwoo’s back.

“But I do,” he replies simply. Of course, he can, being a whole idol. But what about being caught? Minho brushes it off “I’m not that famous outside Korea,” he says, still grinning. Jinwoo tries to convince him that this is a bad, terrible idea, but Minho doesn’t budge. Minho insists and persists until Jinwoo has to say it.

“I can’t repay you,” Jinwoo confesses, giving in. 

“I’m just enjoying your company enough, no need to give me more,” he says, blinking. “Now, hyung, let’s go to our room”.


	2. Hotel Room

Jinwoo is too tired to argue.

  
The room is big but there is only one bed. Minho looks at him and points at it. Jinwoo refuses energetically.  
"It's only fair that you take the bed. The couch will do fine for me," he says, seriously. He is not ready to share one bed with a nearly total stranger. He doesn't want to be a bother neither - Minho has already done enough. Besides, he could fall asleep on the floor and he would be alright. But Minho must be up to discussion because he takes his hand and pushes him to the mattress - it's so soft Jinwoo feels like sinking into it.

  
"Sleep here, hyung," he says, "I'm used to share a bed anyway,'' he explains with a playful grin. Jinwoo isn't particularly inclined to know but Minho tells him nevertheless, "with Seunghoon. I slept with him for 8 years. Not on the same bed, though. The only one who is allowed to do so is Jhonny," he adds with a smirk.

  
"A girlfriend?" Jinwoo feels obligated to ask. Not that he is curious. For a girl is a tragic name, though, but it well could be a pet-name too. Minho seems the type to rename everyone - he is already on hyungs terms with him and they have only met for a few hours. Heck, Minho has been invading his personal space with no regrets at all. And now he is laying next to him, facing each other; Minho has a hand under his neck and the other loiters in the air, searching for a place to rest.

  
Minho's laugh is magic. Jinwoo flushes a bit but wonders how nice would it be to hear it every day to be bathed by the sound of his revelry. It's nice, it's warm, it feels a bit like home.

  
"Nah, I'm single," Minho shrugs it with his petulant smug and Jinwoo feels a bit lighter, as if relieved of a weight caged in his chest - it's fizzy and bubbling, butterflies' wings caressing his heart.

  
"Must be complicated to date being famous," Jinwoo wonders. Minho smirks at him as if he had said something he can reel on. He nods in agreement.

  
"But I haven't date in years. Don't have the time or interest. Jhonny is my only love," he continues, still smirking at Jinwoo. Jinwoo's cheek is drowning on the fluffed pillow and Minho brushes away the bits of scattered hair out of his eyes. "Jhonny is my cat, by the way," he grins at Jinwoo and Jinwoo smiles back because he has cats, too. "How about you?" he asks, out of the blue. For a second, Jinwoo is taken aback. When was the last time he went out with someone? He no longer remembers. It would be nice, though, to hang out with Minho, he thinks, too exhausted to stop his mind - but conscient enough to not saying it out aloud.

  
"I don't know," he states, simply.

  
"If I were half as beautiful as you are…" he starts and his voice is so deep, so rich, Jinwoo feels warm inside, "I would hook up with every boy in town," he says, a thumb on the tip of his nose. He can feel his fingertips under his lashes, dancing tenderly over his cheekbones. "Your skin," he continues, softly brushing his features "is so perfect..." he wonders, fingers gently tapping his chin, the arch of his cheeks, the hollowness of the dimples of his smile. His eyes are dazzling, spiralling constellations of infinite stardust and suns. Jinwoo wants to stargaze on them, get lost, get sleep counting the millions of stars twinkling inside his orbs. He laughs instead - his thoughts are becoming wild, it’s running down, drowsy, tuckered out. Minho stares at him with a raised brow.

  
“I'm not like that, I don't like going out, making out with the first pretty boy on my sight… It’s not who I am,” Jinwoo replies, voice yawning, eyes tilting.

  
“I know.”

  
“No, you don’t know me,” he has been awake for so long, has worked so hard, now all the weariness is drowning him, drowsing his speak.

  
“No, but I would like to. To. Know you, that’s it,” he says in a soft smile that turns into a grin in the laps of a heartbeat, “if you were that type of person I can assure you that we wouldn’t be talking right now, “ he fails at wink but the subtlety is there and Jinwoo holds it. Minho is not advancing on him as he was fearing - he is giving him space, they are both on the edges of the massive bed despite that Minho’s hands are still lingering on his head, brushing the inked silk of his hair. His arms are so long, so strong, veins popping like rivers - it’s beautiful. When Minho pulls him closer, Jinwoo lets him - all his energy has been drained and Minho is so warm, so soft, his chest swings up and down and if counts all the times he breathes in he will fall soon asleep. “You should sleep, hyung,” he murmurs against the pillow, face flat down on the cottony surface. Minho traces his side carefully and Jinwoo allows it because it’s so relaxing, so soothing and his head is spinning and his eyes want to shut close and Minho is speaking carefully, so gently it’s like a lullaby only for him. “But I would really, really let to know you”.

  
“I own you for this,” Jinwoo finds the strength to say, “for sharing the room with me.” He is half slumbering but he can sense the way Minho lights up, beaming at his words. With his eyes closed, he can picture the curb of his pierced lips, the lovely creases on his sparkling eyes, gleaming in delight.

  
“Then, I want your phone number, hyung,” and fireworks are colouring his voice.

  
“Tomorrow, I will give you everything but tomorrow. Now, sleep,” he wants to sound commanding but it comes out as a puff of air and Minho drags him even closer, his back on his chest and his hands holding him with affection and care. Minho hums in agreement, absolutely contented.

It’s all quite when Jinwoo opens his eyes. The light that comes in is dim and the wind is blowing faintly the curtains. The storm has subdued; nothing lasts from last night torment but a memory that Jinwoo can’t grasp - where is he? He can’t remember. He blinks, confused, before his mind settles in, taking in what happened. He stirs and turns around to face Minho - Minho is glancing at him, already woken.

  
“Good morning,” Jinwoo purrs, rubbing his lashes. On his own side of the bed, Minho stays still, looking at him waking. The sheets are perfectly fitted, unused and Jinwoo realised, ten seconds late, that Minho hasn’t slept there.

  
“I was… watching you sleep,” he confesses cheekily - but there is some colour on his cheeks and he looks adorable, ruffled hair and puffy eyes. “I just… I have my sleeping pattern fucked up so I never sleep at night,” and Jinwoo nods not comprehending it at all. “I wasn't stalking, though!” he defends himself when Jinwoo starts to raise some suspicions. “Watching you helped me relax. Better than counting sheep,” he adds, sheepishly.

  
It’s too early to argue.

  
“Breakfast?” Jinwoo offers, heading to the bathroom. Minho follows him with a glance.

  
“I’ll call the room service,” Minho says, “take a shower and we will pick whatever to have”. Jinwoo refuses.

  
“I’ll bring you something from the buffet,” he says, ten minutes lates, drops smearing his pale skin, glimmering. Minho wants to fight - he wants to keep him under his sigh but lets him go nevertheless.

  
Jinwoo carries everything he can on plates up to their room smiling at the scene of the coffee, pastries, the sunshine bathing him, the fact that he is going home. He is thinking about what to tell Minho, the message still beeping on his phone - a new flight to Korea, taking off in a few hours. He had to reschedule everything but Minho seems totally unaffected, unbothered - which pisses Jinwoo a lot, but he smiles at Minho because he is curled in bed pouting at his mug of iced Americano.

  
Minho looks up at him, grinning all of a sudden. His phone is shimming and Jinwoo can read it on his expression, the words are written on his orbs.

  
“We are flying together back home,” he speaks to him which so much familiarity that confuses Jinwoo sometimes. They aren’t friends, they aren’t acquaintances; they are strangers brought together by accident and he doesn’t want to deepen it, to turn it into more than it is now - it would never work out. He wants to get over with it - to reach home, away from Song Minho.  
Minho likes to differ.

  
“We don’t need to see each other again,” Jinwoo said just to hear Minho’s chuckling.

  
“You promised me your phone number”.

  
Jinwoo was too tired to think, too intoxicated by their proximity to refuse, to deny it, to deny him. But he remembers and he is a man of honour. Minho makes sure that he gets the exact number with his trademark smirk when Jinwoo’s phone treachers him by ringing. Jinwoo wants to smash it, but Minho is faster to grab it and save his name on it.

  
“Let's have a drink together some other time,” cheers Minho, handing him his device.

Minho insist to share the ride back to the airport and Jinwoo gives in just to stop the nagging, the pouting, the complains - because it makes his heartache. He stares outside through the windows and ignores all Minho’s banter - he listens to it as if background sounds though all the meanings dive inside his core. The road is covered with rain and falling trees but they make it to the airport where planes are taking off already. Jinwoo smiles watching them, imagining him inside of one, pictures him far from Minho who is sitting next to him, his voice caressing the inside of his mind.

  
He strolls his suitcase - Minho follows suit with his ten thousand of bags that now Jinwoo knows what hides inside. He sits and Minho sits by his side. He takes his phone and Minho watch over his shoulder, so close that he can breathe the air coming out from Minho’s lungs. When he tries to watch the drama, Minho talks over it, loud and annoying until Jinwoo faces him and sighs, resigned. Minho always wins in the end - Minho has earned, somehow, Jinwoo’s attention all the time. They chat and have lunch while waiting to board. Minho pays and Jinwoo rolls his eyes, bothered. Minho withers whenever Jinwoo isn’t paying attention; Jinwoo is like water and rain when he looks at him, he smiles, beaming like the sun and the stars - and when he sulks Jinwoo wants to give him whatever it takes to erase it and draw a smile instead. It’s hard to resist and Jinwoo has never had the will to do it. 

Luck is not on his side, not when he checks in, sits and Minho takes the seat beside him.

“Stop following me around,” Jinwoo whines, tired of the shadow that is Minho.

  
“I know you like me,” he smirks, absolutely sure, “and I’m not stopping until you agree to date me”.

Luck is never by his side but Minho is, stuck next to him like a second skin.

Jinwoo sighs and lets Minho to cuddle, his head resting on his lap, his hands itching to ruffle his hair.


	3. Planes

Once the plane lands, he won't need to see Minho anymore. He will run to take a taxi he barely can afford and be driven back home. Back to the safety of his own place, far away from this annoying distraction that is Minho talking to him for nine hours straight. By now, Jinwoo knows Minho’s taste, Minho’s hobbies, Minho’s friends and family, he has hummed his songs to him and rambled about how inconsiderate his bandmates are from not coming to Hawaii with him - and, at this point, Jinwoo has to agree; maybe then Minho wouldn’t be stuck next to him, maybe he would be able to watch his drama in peace and his heart wouldn't ache and itch at the same pace of Minho’s breathe.

  
Little Jinwoo knows, though, his head gently pressed against Minho’s shoulder, lips ghosting over his hair, eyes flushed shut and a warm, rich voice lulling him. He lets Minho thrown his arms around him, he lets him hold his hands while he slept, he allows his chit-chat to fall on him like rain, pitapatting against the window of the plane. He lets him be because this is his only chance, his last opportunity before stepping out of his life, out of this shared leap of time.

  
Perhaps Jinwoo has given up on catching up with IU’s last drama - the one starring with Pyo Jihoon, the one Minho had been butting in all afternoon the day before - but that doesn’t mean that he wants to hear Minho doodling all the ink he wants to get on his palm, his fingertips running up to his upper arm, tickling his flesh and his heart, telling him about all the patches of his body he has covered in flashes of shades. Up in the sky he can’t use wifi, but he has a good stock of dramas downloaded but, instead, he is constantly interrupted and he hasn’t the energy for being rude and edgy or to shut Minho up with a kiss as it might work better - it should work for a moment before Minho would be back at him, back at talking about feelings, confessing something that Jinwoo is too exhausted to notice. Kissing him wouldn’t be any good and he has no other option but to remain silent, listening to his babble. Because kissing Minho might be the one thing he wants to do more - to taste the metal ring on his lips, to put away the pout on his face whenever he isn’t paying him attention - but he is also sure that it would only be trouble - that Minho himself is a big nuisance.

When the flight is over and he is walking down Incheon, the casted shadow that is Minho has dissipated. He takes the bus back home and forgets about him in an instant that lasts more than a year.

Back home, he blocks his name and buries down all the memories shared - his hands on his skin, a voice that is too deep to skip, allowing his mind to swirl within his words to fall asleep on the plane, eyes that cracked creases whenever he laughed (and how easy he laughed and how pretty the sound of it was, like songs and bells ringing in the sky). He presses them out of his system but keeps Minho inside his pocket chest, just close enough for the recollection to be there but do not emerge, not to bloom into something fully, into a blue rose of magic and miracles he doesn’t need but that are so dear to him.

But it is all in vain because even when he is just sitting on his couch, Minho is with him - he is everywhere, on his favourite radio show, on the advertisement on the metro station, in every damn variety show. He is even on his phone, under the shape of texts and unanswered calls.

  
Because he has promised him a coffee and Minho hasn’t forgotten. Jinwoo is running out of excuses while Minho presses him, so persistent, so insistent. He asks even though Jinwoo won’t answer, he texted him despite knowing fully well that Jinwoo will ignore it - that the most he can expect is a lame excuse, not even himself can believe in. Somehow Minho can’t let him go.

Maybe it’s because he is exhausted, perhaps he has run out of pretexts, mayhaps it’s because he just can’t and so he gives in to Minho. He is listening to his songs when he picked up the phone. Even though it has been 4 months, Jinwoo can still imagine Minho’s smile, the texture and the colour of his voice beaming at his response.

Minho comes to his home with the excuse of a coffee - better indoor, people could suspect otherwise. He comes in with a USB filled with dramas and a whole bunch of pictures of IU and even a signed CD that Jihoon has managed to sneak and to ask her as a favour to Minho while they were out on holidays with the whole cast of Hotel del Luna.

  
It is supposed to be just a quick coffee but Minho brings in dramas to watch and Jinwoo can’t resist and the afternoon gives way to beers and dinner and lots of giggles. And Jinwoo finds out, the next morning, that waking up with Minho sleeping on his bed is not too bad - and his sheets smells like coffee and ginger and bergamot and it’s not unpleasant this time around. Breakfast sparks with joy and funny remarks and promises of seeing each other again because Jinwoo knows that Minho will come uninvited - and that he will be delighted with it.

It has been 44 weeks since they had met. Now Jinwoo knows all the ways Minho’s eyes wrinkle with his smile, all the octaves hid on his voice, all the stupid things he has done, all the tattoos engraved on his skin - his hands have danced over them, tracing them like soft petals, he has drawn on his flesh; a white notebook full of possibilities, open to everything. By now Jinwoo has been to Minho’s dorm, has met his friends and his managers and Jhonny loves him more than she likes her owner.

Seungyoon is 4 times cuter and sweeter than Minho; he likes to cling into him, he likes to pretend that he is his long-time friend, a big brother, someone who he looks up to even though Jinwoo is nowhere close to being a role model, he is only a teacher in a kindergarten school. Seunghoon is 44 times wiser and funnier than Minho, every time he meets with him, he treats his food and ends with tears in his eyes. He always has something to say, something to explain and Jinwoo enjoys his company very much. And, yet, he is already charmed by Minho - silly, stupid, caring, kind-hearted, lovable. And, somehow, Minho is totally enchanted by Jinwoo - has since the beginning, since the first time he saw him, sitting alone, trying to watch some dramas; the nice man who told him not to worry, the person who let him stuck with him despite not knowing each other. But they are nothing but good friends. Friends who have dinner together while crying over dramas, friends getting drunk together, stacking beer cans and soju bottles on the floor and singing perfectly in sync to all Winner’s songs, friends who dream about kissing each other, about holding hands without the guilty feeling.

Now, when Minho calls, Jinwoo rushes to pick up the phone. If Minho comes to his home, Jinwoo ensures that he cooks his favourite dishes, that he has notebooks ready for him to draw and write if inspiration hits him while he is not on his studio. Jinwoo goes to Minho’s studio if he doesn’t hear about him for more than a few days and drags him back to the daylight. Sometimes even Minho’s manager calls him to ask if Minho is around - sometimes to get a coffee and exchange opinions about Minho’s whereabouts.

After nearly a year, Minho’s fans know about Jinwoo - about the pretty boy who, sometimes hangs out with Winner, pops up on Minho’s VLives and goes to their concerts if he has the time. Some fans even ship them - which is crazy because it is not true but it’s neither a lie if Jinwoo is honest with his heart.

If Jinwoo has to be honest then he will have to split all the sentiments he has storage inside his chest, all the times he has whispered Minho’s name at the wind, mumbling it against his pillow, against the moon and the stars. If he has to tell the truth, he would have to admit that he loves Minho too. If he admits, if he faces it, if he grows the courage to explain to him… but he cannot. There are too many things to take into account and that he can’t ignore, that he can’t be greedy to disregard. He can’t tarnish Minho’s reputation, he can’t ruin his career, he can’t be the downfall for him, for his team - and he thinks of Seunghoon dancing in flashes of lights on the stage, and Seungyoon’s sweet, velvety voice, his fingertips strumming his guitar. No, he cannot do it and so he keeps his feelings alive, safe under layers of concealed indifference.

Because he loves Minho enough to know that he won’t be happy just with him, that he needs the stage, to perform, to give away his creativity, his talents. And Jinwoo is kind enough to be aware of it, of his limitations, of what would happen and it hurts. It hurt to be so close to the sun but unable to reach it, to touch it with his lips - to let it burn him alive, consume his soul and life.

How long has it been? Jinwoo can’t remember, he only knows that he doesn’t know a day without Minho by his side. How many days have they shared pointing out stupid lines out of cliché dramas? How many pre-shows have they been together too? Jihoon has invited them to so many he has lost track - in the end, Jihoon turned out to be a great actor. How many concerts has he assisted to? As many as Winner did - he has gone to every one of them just to cheer them with all his heart. How many kisses did Minho steal from him at the back-stage? Too many to recount, too little for Minho who, after all these years, still kisses him like the first time. Jinwoo feels like the first time, too, whenever their lips meet, trembling in excitement, like little kids.

Yes, nobody can know but it is worth the risk, it is worth the pain, the insecurities, the secrecy of it. Because some nights Minho sleeps next to him and Jinwoo can count the stars inside his orbs.  
And maybe it’s not what he was waiting for but, with Minho pressed against his chest, he can pretend that everything is alright, perfect. Because life isn’t perfect after all but Minho makes it all worth all the troubles.

What it took was only another travel that was the beginning of their shared journey. Another bunch of hours to pass together on another plane back home from Hawaii. Hours with nothing else to do but to talk, and nothing else to talk but love - it took half the flight for Minho to convince Jinwoo that it was alright to give it a try. The other half was used for better things that required lips and hands and lights off.

Because Minho is annoying and a bother but Jinwoo doesn’t mind - he doesn’t because it’s what he likes about him the most.


End file.
